


Requisite

by crimsoncomradeposts



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsoncomradeposts/pseuds/crimsoncomradeposts
Summary: These House of Gucci photos are too much. I can’t handle them. I’m about to go off and build a whole 70′s Professor Barber au, please don’t even look at me. This is just a little something I threw together when the thots hit me yesterday. I might write a part two, I DON’T KNOW. I still haven’t decided. My head’s full, there’s too many thots.
Relationships: Charlie Barber & You, Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Requisite

The steady tick, tick, tick of the clock that hangs above the nearby door continually draws Charlie’s attention from where he stands at the wooden lectern. Today’s lecture has focused on the anatomy of a play, but _Charlie’s_ focus has done nothing but lie on an anatomy of another kind entirely. His gaze sweeps back out across the sea of students that sit in front of him, and by some semblance of a miracle, he manages to continue with today’s lesson.

In three long minutes he will gather his things and make his way out of the lecture hall. He will cross the prestigious campus of which he is employed, and he will make his way to his office—the very one in which you are waiting so patiently for him.

_“I’ll allow it to be your choice tonight, sweetheart,” he whispers to you while he fingers you in one of the institution’s many stairwells. “Wear whatever you like for me. Any color.”_

_Your fingers grasp at the shoulders of the Burberry trench coat that he wears, digging into the material whilst his own seek out that sensitive place within you that he’s come to know so well. It’s effortless, how quickly he can find it when he wants to, when he **needs** to, when the two of you find yourselves in moments such as this—meeting between classes, sneaking around and avoiding prying eyes, avoiding the potential for reprimand and expulsion all in the name of passion._

_His hand slides over your mouth to stifle the shout that bubbles up when he finds it, fingers stroking against the silken walls of your cunt. The fingers at his shoulders grasp harder as if to hold on for dear life as you shake and shudder against him, your cunt fluttering and clenching around his fingers fervently as you cum._

_Only when the moans subside does he remove his hand from both your mouth and your cunt simultaneously. A soft sigh slips past your lips at the sudden loss of him, and your cunt flutters again at the sight of his fingers disappearing into his mouth so that he may get his fill of you—just enough to tide him over until later._

_“Five o’clock, sweetheart,” he says when his fingers have been sufficiently cleaned and removed from his mouth. “My office.”_

It is five o’clock on the dot when you hear the familiar sound of a key sliding into the deadbolt of the office door. With a speed and efficiency that is always displayed in these moments, Charlie opens the door and slips inside before closing the door again, all without giving anyone outside of this space a view of you. You’re a vision in emerald green lace, all propped up and pretty against the edge of his wooden desk, legs covered in thigh-high stockings that have him practically itching to touch.

He’s barely been in the room for all of thirty seconds and already he doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard in his life. Perhaps he’ll let you choose your lingerie more often…

You watch, neither of you exchanging so much as a word, whilst Charlie sets his briefcase down onto the nearby couch before shedding himself of his jacket to set it down beside your own. When he turns back around to face you, he begins to roll the sleeves of his sweater up until it is bunched around his elbows.

“Knees,” he instructs, just quiet enough for you to hear, yet firm enough to let you know that he won’t be making this demand a second time.

You are quick to obey, pushing yourself away from the desk in order to sink down onto the floor in front of him, your knees pressing into the plush carpeting of his office. Above you, his hands work at his belt, the metal clinking against the pinky ring that he wears so often once his belt comes undone and he moves his focus to the button and zipper of his slacks.

As you have so often done before, your lips part to open your mouth, tongue lolling out in anticipation of the heavy weight of his thick cock.

Fabric pools around his ankles as Charlie works to disrobe his lower half, his cock bobbing proudly when he does so. Your thighs rub together inadvertently at the sight, and as you shift on the floor in front of him, Charlie tips his head to peer down. When he does so, the glasses that he wears inch down the bridge of his nose, forcing him to push them back up with a finger whilst his other than grips the base of his cock.

“I’ve been thinking of this pretty mouth all day,” he says huskily, now tapping the fleshy head of his cock against your flattened tongue. “Been thinking of wet and warm and well it’ll take all of me. What do you think, sweetheart, should I have you keep me warm with your mouth while I work on tomorrow’s lecture?” A few more taps follow his question and then: “Or are you in a hurry, desperate to have that lovely cunt of yours used?”

Today the questions are rhetorical, you find as he pushes his hips forward to stuff your mouth full of _him_. Because it is him who is in a hurry, it is him who is the desperate one. He’s so used to being in control, so used to drawing out your own pleasure simply for the sake of his, but today he simply cannot do it. At least...not yet.

A large palm slips around to settle against the back of your head, pushing you further down, down, down onto his cock until you resist, hands pressing against his thighs to signal that you cannot go any further.

But you can.

You both know that you can. You just need a little time.

Charlie holds you there, feels the flexing of your throat just at the tip of his cock when you attempt to swallow down the saliva that’s pooled in your mouth. “C’mon,” he grunts, giving a tentative shallow thrust of his hips, “open that throat for me, baby. I know you can take all of me.”

Of course you can, you know. You’ve done it many times before—sucking him off at his desk, in his car, the stairwells, lecture halls, his own apartment. Each time you take him in his entirety, loosening yourself up enough to fit him in until you’re gagging and choking, spit bubbling from the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin. It’s the messy ones he loves best, you know. He loves how he can turn his best, most composed student into nothing more than a mess all for him. Nothing gets him off faster, you’ve come to realize.

Your hand slips past the lace that adorns your cunt, fingers rubbing right little circles against your clit just as your throat finally relaxes enough to allow him in further. Above you, Charlie inhales sharply through gritted teeth before uttering a string of curses when the head of him squeezes into the back of your tight throat. It’s automatic, a reflex, how you gag against him just as your nose is pressed into the course hair at the base of his cock.

The gasp that you inhale upon his release of you is that of an inverse scream, and Charlie’s cock throbs with need at the sight of the string of spit that bridges the tip of his cock to your shiny lips. He grips himself in his hand, giving a few long, slow strokes to temporarily satisfy himself until he can be buried to the hilt in the one place he wants most.

“On the desk,” he directs with a curt nod of his head, feathered hair swaying with the motion. “Want you bent over, hands gripping the edge, sweetheart.”

“Yes, professor,” you murmur from your spot on the floor, and—fuck, if Charlie doesn’t cum right here and now it’ll be a miracle.

His eyes darken considerably, cock throbbing insistently in his hand, demanding to be sheathed in your tight heat. There are few things he loves more than this very moment: seeing you on your knees in front of him, call him professor… He squeezes the base of his cock, staves off any impending threat of an orgasm that’ll come too soon.

A smirk graces your features as you rise up from your spot on the floor, knees already bearing the imprint of both the carpet and your stockings. You do as instructed, position yourself as you’re told, and then, you wait…


End file.
